


Happiness

by JaggedCliffs



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brother Feels, Fluff, Multi, Other characters and relationships will be updated with the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:09:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaggedCliffs/pseuds/JaggedCliffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short stories about Thor and Loki, depicting times when they were happy in some way. Although not all forms of happiness are pleasant, nor all that happy. Warnings or pairing may be added as stories are added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Contentment

**Author's Note:**

> Contentment: (adj) The state of being mentally or emotionally satisfied with things as they are. [The Blue Umbrella](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RncvCSS1lL4%20)  
> In the first story, Thor is around the equivalent of 18. In the second story, Loki is around the equivalent of 10-11.

There weren't many afternoons like this. It was true, Thor thought as he surveyed the verdant fields and flawless blue sky, that Asgard retained its warmth most of the year. But the days were rarely quite so perfect. The sun was shining down on them without beating down their backs or heating up uncovered necks, and a light breeze wound it's way over the fields. Their horses trotted along at an even pace; there was no need to push the steeds when they could enjoy the weather instead.

They had all left just after the mid-day meal, and Thor intended to make the most of their time.

The Warriors Three had been easy to convince, but Sif and Loki had taken a bit of wrangling. Both thought they had better things to do, Sif at her sword work and Loki deep in some book about the theory of mind magics or something. While no Silvertounge, Fandral had informed Sif that she beat the Warriors nearly every time they sparred, and knocked Thor on his back half the time, so she could spare two _measly_ days for some fun.

Loki had been trickier, until Thor took a hint from Fandral and appealed to ego. He heaped praise on Loki's skill with magic, saying that Loki was well on his way to besting even the highest of Vanir sorcerers. Loki had rolled his eyes at Thor's exaggerated compliments, but he couldn't hide the pleased grin that crept onto his face.

And it had worked out fine so far. Sif seemed relaxed, Hogun's face was less dour than usual, and Thor was sure he caught his brother smiling.

Although maybe he should have been paying more attention to Loki's smiles. One moment his brother was whispering something to a very sceptical Sif, then Thor's steed reared and let out a terrified whinny before galloping forward. Thor scrambled for the reins, doing his best not to get thrown.

With the thumping of hooves in his ears, Thor nearly missed Loki's cackle, three surprised shouts, and the sound of hoofbeats following his own. Then the hoofbeats caught up, bringing with them Sif and Loki, their horses neck and neck and a look of concentration on their faces.

A race, then. Evidently the easy pace was at an end.

Not about to be outdone, Thor spurred his steed out of its panicked, wayward gallop, and after his friends just as the Warriors Three caught on behind him.

The six of them raced across the open fields, Fandral and Hogun trailing Thor while Volstagg's poor stead lagged behind. Thor laughed as he drew even with Sif and Loki. The two them returned his smile before leaving him in the dust.

 

By the time night fell on their little camp the fire was roaring, thanks to Fandral gathering firewood and Loki deigning to set it alight with gesture (“But just this once,” Loki had grumbled; Thor knew better than to remind him he made that promise every time they went on a trip), and they had several plump rabbits and one pheasant ready to cook.

Tomorrow morning they would set out early, and reach the little mountain lake he and Loki had stumbled upon nearly three centuries ago; It was a perfect place for swimming, fishing, and hunting, and there was a nearby clearing that was about the same size as a sparring ring. The first time he'd brought Sif and Warriors Three to the lake, the five of them had fought in the clearing until they were too tired to move, and it was a tradition they continued each time they returned. Loki would usually join in for a bit before either sitting on the sidelines while cheering (and mocking) the competitors, or he would wander off somewhere down the mountainside. He always came back before the rest of them had finished sparring.

It was a place where Thor could relax, away from tutors when he was younger, and now away from all the diplomats, nobles, and even commoners who expected him to be ready for kingship already. It was _exhausting_. He still had _centuries_ before Father even would start to consider stepping down (and Father hadn't actually _said_ Thor would be taking the throne yet, instead of Loki, but everyone presumed Thor would be Father's heir).

But since none of them had any serious duties for the next few days, Thor thought it would be a perfect time for some respite.

Though the others didn't have princely duties, and Loki was barely of age so no one expected him to do much (even if he insisted on learning the politics of nearly every single realm anyway), they too seemed to enjoy the rest. Volstagg loved his newborn babe dearly, but was looking forward to a full night's sleep. Fandral and Hogun were grateful not to be in sparring ring with warriors nearly twice their size, again, as their sword instructor had been forcing them to do for the past week.

Sif was idling just next to Thor; gently cleaning one her knives, she looked serene, while the five of them listened to Loki regal them with a strange tale he claimed he had found in the back of the library. His brother's face was animated, arms waving about as he explained, sometimes using small illusions to show the far-away places only he had read about.

Later, as they settled in their sleeping rolls under Yggdrasil's stars, Thor couldn't think of a better ending to perfect day.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Loki knew he was too old to sit in the weaving room with his mother, but he didn't have anything else to do and his room felt lonely and empty without Thor. His brother was off with his friends, training with the bigger, heavy swords that Loki could barely lift. Everyone said he would get better, grow bigger and stronger, but Loki couldn't see that happening. He preferred daggers and throwing knives to broadswords anyway.

To be honest, he dreaded going to the training fields each day. He liked the lessons with the tutors. Even if they could be insufferably boring at times, and would tell Father and Mother if all the history books happened to be replaced with the ones he had found in the library with swooning maidens on the cover (the ones with words and phrases he didn't understand and no one would tell him when he asked; they just looked embarrassed and muttered something under their breath before changing the subject). They were still better than falling in mud after yet another failed sparring match, humiliation reddening his face. But he had to keep trying, because Father was a warrior and Thor was well on his way to being one, so Loki had to be one too.

Not today, though. Warrior training was over, the work his tutors had assigned him was done, and he had a book he'd wanted to start reading last night but had ended up falling asleep instead.

However, when got to the room he and Thor shared he realized how big it looked with Thor gone, and his battle gear with him. The library hadn't been much better. Father was busy with some nobles from Alfheim (and wouldn't want him in the way while he had kingly duties at any rate). At first he couldn't find Mother, and he thought he'd just go back to his (empty) room when he spotted her in her weaving room.

Mother didn't like to be disturbed while she weaved, but as soon as she caught him peeking inside, she'd smiled and beckoned him in. She had asked what was wrong, and Loki mumbled to the ground and held up his book (because he usually read on his own, he was just being a child, feeling lonely _just_ because Thor wasn't there). Giving Loki a quick hug, she brought up a stool and little table so he could sit beside her while she worked.

Soon he was absorbed in the book, feeling much happier with sounds in the loom in the background assuring him that he wasn't alone.

It was only when his stomach rumbled that he realized it must be getting late. He looked up to find Mother staring at him, a small smile on her face. Apparently she'd heard his stomach too.

She stopped weaving and lay one hand gently over his. “It's not quite time for dinner,” she said, then leaned down as if telling him a secret, “but I believe we can have something to keep you until then.”

A servant brought in biscuits and tea, and Loki ended up describing his whole day to Mother, though he skipped over a few details in the sparring arena. When he began talking about his book, how to use magic to move things without touching them, Mother asked if he'd actually tried the spell out yet.

“No, not yet,” he admitted.

So Mother showed him how.

By the time a servant came to summon them to dinner, Loki had forgotten about the tea and biscuits, and he managed (with a bit of help from Mother) to roll a spool of thread towards him from the other end of the room.

Whenever Mother wasn't busy, he learnt with her instead of out of a book.

 

( _Mother seemed more busy the older he grew, and so did Loki. There wasn't time to teach him the more complex spells. And then he starting experimenting with spells that had no book to learn from. Spells that Mother would not entirely approve of. But how else could he hide from Heimdall's eyes?_ )


	2. Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laughter: (noun) an expression or appearance of merriment or amusement.  
> [Everyone's A Hero](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oafRdw6ofmw%20) (because it makes me laugh).  
> In the first story, Loki is around 19. In the second story Thor is also around 19.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slowness on this; schoolwork is time consuming. I have to admit it was sometimes difficult to write this with all the sad Thor 2 promo footage coming out; but anyway, just a few more days, and I can see it!

Loki was drunk.

Then again, they were all drunk. But as he giggled helplessly at the Warriors Three dancing on one of the tables, Loki thought he was perhaps a bit _too_ drunk.

Fandral had made a bet with Sif, dragging poor Volstagg and Hogun into it. Although Volstagg _did_ seem to be having the most fun, next to Fandral, even while the table groaned and drooped under his prodigious mass. Hogun, on the other hand, looked more displeased than usual. It was his grim expression while doing an elegant little twirl that sent Loki laughing hard enough he slid off his chair.

Which was about when Loki figured he should put his cup down and wander back to his rooms before he lost any more of his grace. But the drink was good and the show was even better. So instead, he took another sip (or rather, mouthful) of his thankfully unspilled mead. Somewhere in the more sober part of his brain, he was glad everyone in the bar was too busy watching the dancing trio to notice his fall.

Everyone, it seemed, except for Thor.

“I think you've had enough to drink, brother,” Thor's voice rumbled in his ear, strong arms wrapping around Loki and hauling him to his feet.

“'M fine, really,” Loki slurred as the room seemed to tilt to one side. Not one of his best lies. He'd think of a better one later, when floor stopped moving.

Thor chuckled and manoeuvred Loki into a one-armed hug before plucking Loki's tankard out of his hands and setting it on the bar's counter. Loki made a half-hearted movement towards the mead, though he knew he really should stop and Thor was effectively barricading him in anyway. Thor laughed at the gesture. “No, I don't believe you are. If you drink anymore you'll pass out, and then I'll have to carry you home.”

Loki shuddered at the thought. Tossed over his brother's shoulder like a bag of spoils, being carted through Asgard's halls? No, no, no, that would not do. And he'd never hear the end of it.

Like the time Loki, Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three had stumbled upon group of trolls only a few seasons earlier. Perhaps more embarrassing than not hearing a _whole den_ of trolls, was the fact that the brutes had been nearly been finished off when one of them bashed Loki's head with its club. Nor had it been anymore pleasant waking up nauseated, upside-down, head aching, and staring at Thor's backside as he was carried frantically into through Asgard's halls like a helpless maiden. Thor's shouting and constant jiggling as he ran hadn't helped Loki's nausea; He had vomited down Thor's legs only steps from the healer's ward.

At least he didn't remember most of that humiliating journey through Asgard, unlike the time Fandral had been caught in bed with a high-ranking noblewoman in some small stronghold in Alfheim. The same noblewoman who happened to be engaged to the head of that stronghold. Rather than reason with him, Thor had gently tossed Fandral over his shoulder, and six of them had escaped with the whole gentry and household on their heels, while a besotted Fandral bemoaned the loss of his dearest beloved (she had been his second 'dearest beloved' that week alone). Although, that incident had been rather entertaining, with five of them teasing Fandral until Heimdall returned them to the Bifrost. And Thor refusing to set him down until they were well within Asgard's palace so there was no chance of Fandral running back to his paramour, as Fandral had been profusely and vehemently threatening from the cage of Thor's arms.

Loki only realized he had begun giggling out loud when Thor shot him a puzzled look, which was also when he saw Thor had steered him through the cheering throngs of warriors and half-way to the pub's exit, all without Loki noticing.

“Something amusing you, brother?” Thor asked, sidling past a group of young warriors who seemed to be placing bets. Loki leaned closer, and heard one of the men mutter, “Nay, the table will break sooner than that,” dropping several gold coins into another man's hand.

“Jus' tonight's lovely show,” Loki said, twisted towards the dancing Warrior's three to see the table drooping dangerously under Volstagg's weight. As they reached the door of the pub, Loki sent a quick spell towards the poor, abused table. Someone was about to win a bet.

Just before they slipped outside, there was a great splinting of wood, a crash that shook the floor, a drunken cheer, and several curses as some warriors lost their drinking money. Loki looked around to see Volstagg sitting dazedly on the floor with a jolly Fandral and an irate Hogun on top of him.

Loki snickered, and heard Thor chuckle before herding him out the door, the raucous sounds immediately muffled. “I'll never understand how you can't even walk straight, but you can still cast a spell,” Thor said, sounding too amused to be entirely exasperated.

“'Can walk straight,” Loki mumbled, and really hoped Thor wouldn't take him up that offer. The ground seemed to be undulating, like the ocean underneath the rainbow bridge.

“Are you sure? Would you like to test that?” Thor smiled in a way that seemed eerily similar to ones Loki had seen in the mirror. Before Loki's mind could catch up with the sudden sense of foreboding in his stomach, the arm steadily guiding Loki forward disappeared mid-step.

Unbalanced, Loki stumbled, the world tilting dangerously to one side. With a sound rather close to yelp (though Loki would refuse to acknowledge it as such), Loki pinwheeled his arms in Thor's general direction. He caught a mail-clad arm and held on before his face came in contact with the swimming ground, the arm dragging him safely upright.

And Thor was _laughing_. Loki shot him a glare. Though the effect was probably ruined by the way Loki clung to Thor's shoulder. “You're an ass,” Loki hissed.

Thor just laughed harder, gently helping Loki forward once more. “You've never been this drunk before, Loki. Nor this clumsy. Allow me this fun just this once.”

Loki glowered at the ground, then decide he didn't like the way it was moving, and instead scowling off into the blurry distance.

Then he grinned.

It was Thor's turn to yelp when all his garments but his smallclothes and boots vanished. Watching Thor's confusion, which was quickly turning to frustration, Loki started laughing.

Thor frowned, probably about to storm away and let Loki stumble to the palace by himself, but to Loki's surprise Thor smiled, then joined in Loki's mirth. “We will inspire some glorious stories tonight, brother. They will wonder at the marvellous adventures we must have had to end up in such a state.”

As Thor chuckled and cheerily continued down the road with his chest naked to the cool night air, Loki belatedly realized Thor was rather drunk as well.

Together they stumbled up the road, laughing, making quite a sight to any who happened to pass by. But Thor just grinned charmingly at any who gave them queer looks, while Loki giggled into Thor's shoulder, and with a sigh the onlooker went on their way. Maybe they thought the princes of Asgard did something like this everyday.

Judging by his hangover the next day, Loki would not be repeating something like that again. _Ever_.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Pulling down the lacy undergarment, the last bit of the woman's clothing (Gerda, she had whispered in his ear, pressed up against him in a dark alcove just outside the feasting hall), Thor growled as he lay sloppy kisses along her neck. Gerda moaned and slid one hand underneath Thor's pants, the other undoing the laces in front. Taking the hint, Thor took over, slipping out of his pants while his mouth returned to her's. Fully unclothed, they toppled into the Thor's bed, Gerda underneath, Thor on all four above her. As Thor bent down and ran his tongue over one of Gerda's pert breasts, she gasped and slid her hands downwards, over his hips and-

“Thor! Thor, I found-” a small shriek cut into the next words, and Thor jerked his head upwards, craning his neck around to see Loki, grimacing and and covering his eyes with his hands. Then another shriek, this time from Gerda as she scrambled to yank the bed covers from underneath them and over her body, managing to topple Thor in the process. Unfortunately, just as Thor fell onto his back beside Gerda, Loki decided to peek through his fingers. He gave another small yelp and covered his face again.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Get out!” Gerda screeched, “Out you little-”

“Sorry!” Just as he had come in, Loki disappeared, his magic instantly whisking him away without any flash or fanfare.

Thor groaned. He _knew_ this would happen one day. Loki had a tendency to ignore others' privacy to a distressing extent.

He turned to Gerda, fully prepared to apologize for his brother's...less than normal antics, but she was already up and pulling on her underclothes.

“Gerda, I know you're-”

“NO. I'm not-” she pulled her dress over her head, “-bedding you, if your _brother_ ,” she spat the word as if it was bit of dung on her shoe, “is going to be coming in and out of here like it's his own room.” She glared at him as she picked a shoe off the floor, realized it was one of Thor's, then threw it at him. Thor was a bit too stunned to catch it, and it bounced off his chest as Gerda pulled on her heels. “Go find someone else to else to _rut_ , if it's going to turn into a show.” She stomped out of Thor's bedroom, hair tangled and clothing dishevelled. The footsteps grew muffled once the doors to Thor's rooms slammed shut.

Thor groaned again and lay back on his bed. He wondered if Loki had ever something to Gerda, maybe put spiders in her bed or embarrassed her in front of a crowd. Or maybe she just wasn't fond of Loki in general.

Growling under his breath, Thor pulled on his pants. He certainly wasn't bedding anyone tonight, unless he wanted to find another willing maiden at the feast, so he might as well find out what was so _damn_ important that Loki had to interrupt what was starting to look like an blissful night.

His hair just as messy as Gerda, and clothing more rumpled, Thor knocked on the door to Loki's rooms. Unlike Thor's rooms, Loki's couldn't be burst into (or teleported into) unless that someone wanted to be cursed (or that someone was Frigga or Odin; Thor was still fair game).

Luckily, the door opened on the third knock. Thor stormed in and nearly tripped over a pair of muddy boots. Frowning, because Loki hated his things getting dirty, Thor left the entryway to find his brother's rooms in an usual state of disarray. A cloak was thrown haphazardly across one of the chairs, and open books and papers were scattered across the floor. In the centre of the mess sat Loki, legs elegantly folded on the ground while he jotted something down on a worn piece of parchment.

However, Loki's odd behaviour wasn't going to get him out of an explanation. Marching until he stood just outside Loki's nest of books, Thor loomed over his brother. “Is there any good reason you were in my rooms tonight?” he demanded.

Loki sighed and looked up at him. Then a strange look crossed his face and he leaned backwards and closed his eyes. “By the Norns, I'll be cursed with that for the rest of life,” he moaned.

“Cursed with what?” Thor couldn't help the jolt of worry that disrupted his anger. Had that been what Loki had been trying to tell him? Maybe something that would explain the mess?

Opening his eyes, Loki glared and waved at hand at Thor's nether regions. “The sight of your cock,” he wailed.

Thor stared for a second, then burst out laughing. It was partially from relief, but judging by Loki's scowl, Loki been too preoccupied to follow Thor's earlier train of thoughts. Thor only laughed harder. “It was your own fault, Loki. ” Thor leaned back against one tables, mindful of the precarious stack of books, assuring that the front of his pants was very prominently in Loki's view. “And I do not know what you find so offensive. You've seen me unclothed before.”

“But not like that,” Loki whined “when your body is ready to lay with someone!”

Thor snorted. “It's not so different.”

But Loki wasn't finished. “And with your bare ass for all the world to see-”

“Only _you_ could see it-”

“-Oh, it was horrifying!” It was only once Loki put a hand to his forehead and pretended to swoon, Thor knew Loki was not so seriously affronted.

Thor couldn't help chuckling. “Perhaps you should join the theatre, and put your dramatic skills to use.”

“Me? _Dramatic_?” Loki put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You make light of my pain, Thor! I will carry that image for the rest of my life!” He leaned back and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “When I am about to bed my lovely wife on our wedding-night, that memory will come to my head. We won't have children for years! You,” he pointed an accusing finger at Thor's loins, “will be the direct cause of Mother's dearth of grandchildren.”

At the finger-pointing (and Thor was grateful the bulge in his pants had receded before he came to Loki's rooms), Thor burst out laughing. “It wasn't that awful-” Thor half-protested.

“I will be on my deathbed, lamenting the one time I saw my brother's half-erect cock-”

“Loki!” Thor nearly choked.

“-I will carry the scene with me to the after-life-” Loki spread his arms wide, “-and to the end Ragnarok itself!”

“Well if that's the case,” Thor teased once his laughter had died down, “perhaps now you will stop appearing in my rooms without knocking.” Thor grinned and sat down opposite Loki. “Besides, you know better than to come into my rooms after a feast such as that.”

Loki shrugged and looked down at the papers before him. “I didn't know there was a feast. I've been away.”

Thor frowned. He tried to remember if Loki hadn't been around the past few days, but it was much easier to remember the times he'd seen Loki than the times he'd not seen Loki. The feast had been announced a week prior, after the successful defeat of some raiders in Vanaheim. Surely he would have noticed if Loki had been gone for so long. He stared at Loki who briefly glanced up at him before returning to his papers, seeming bored with Thor's confusion. “...Does your 'being away' have to do with your _interruption_?” Thor ventured.

And with a grin the bored expression disappeared. “As a matter of fact, it does.” Snatching a book from somewhere off to his right, Loki shoved it at Thor.

Thor peered at the open book. One page was a map, and next to it the tiny cramped writing of musty old scholars which gave Thor a headache just to look at. Both pages were covered in Loki's neat cursive script, his writing in the margins, sometimes vehemently crossing out the original writer's words and replacing them with his own. Even the map had to suffer through Loki's corrections.

“Do you remember when I was complaining about that appalling lack of theory on the extra dimensional properties of single dimensional matter when forced to exist on several planes of existence?” Loki asked, an edge of excitement in his voice. Thor nodded, though to be honest he hadn't understood a word Loki said. But he wasn't about to spoil Loki's good mood. “Because I was looking through old writings, and stumbled across a lead, which led me a witch's hut in Vanaheim and then-” Loki glanced at Thor's expression, which Thor knew must look thunderous because Thor wanted to ask _what in Yggdrasil's name_ he was doing with a mysterious witch in Vanaheim, then quickly continued, “well, anyway, I think I found out where there are some scrolls on the matter. They're near a dragon's lair-”

“ _What_!” Thor bellowed, jolting straight. “And you want to go there _alone_?”

“Of course not.” Loki rolled his eyes, before returning to look intently at Thor. “I want you to come with me.” The way Loki said it was almost flippant, except Thor heard the apprehension in his voice, and could see the way he fidgeted with the edge of his tunic.

Even if Thor had reservations about the potential slaying of dragons, he couldn't let Loki venture off on his own. And Thor was pretty sure he could handle a dragon, and if not then he could take Loki to safety before any harm came to his brother, whether Loki had his scrolls or not. Leaning back, he said, “Alright then.”

Immediately, Loki's fidgeting stopped, and briefly Thor wondered if the nervousness had been an act. “Good. We'll be leaving in two days. I'll deal with the preparations. But first,” and there was gleeful look in Loki's eyes that Thor didn't like one bit, “I'll write a letter to poor Gerda, informing her how _wonderful_ you are in bed, judging by the amount of maidens who have graced it,” Loki said airily, then produced a blank sheet of paper out of the nowhere and began scribbling on it. “Dearest, Gerda, I _sincerely_ apologize for the intrusion last night. 'Twas a heinous crime, for I've heard _magnificent_ tales about my brother's prowess in the sheets, or on top of the sheets, or even against the wall-”

Which was where Loki cut off, because Thor had recovered from his horror and leapt forward, scattering books as he reached for the paper. He had no idea if Loki would actually send something like that to Gerda, but he wouldn't put it past his brother.

Unfortunately, Loki slipped out of his grasp, rolled to his feet, and continued scribbling even as Thor chased him around the room. Eventually Thor tackled Loki onto the bed and ripped the paper of his grasp. Reading Loki's horrible excuse for an apology out loud, they fell into laughter, giggling like children much too long into the night.

 

( _Loki's disappearances occurred more and more often, though it took Thor longer to notice than he could comfortably admit. Sometimes, after Loki had fallen (let go) and Thor thought of his brother's words on the Bifrost, he wondered if Loki spent longer times away just to see if anyone had noticed his absences._

_Sometimes, at night when there was nothing to distract him from the loss and the pain, Thor pretended Loki hadn't fallen, he'd just gone one of his mysterious trips, and he would be back some day, with new mysterious objects and stories to tell, though he usually kept both a secret._

_Thor wasn't sure if he was happy to be proven right._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one went on much longer than it was supposed it. In the first story, I imagined [this image](http://www.thecomicbooknerd.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/tumblr_lkfryqpu9m1qzzhvso1_1280.jpg) for the Warriors Three, though without Thor, Amora, and Sif (or is that Danni Moonstar?). And I partly feel bad for Thor in the second one, because half of the emotions Loki is showing genuine, and the other half is all for manipulating Thor to some extent. Also all the stuff that Loki said was in the scrolls in pretty much cool sounding gibberish I made up after reading the first part of the Wikipedia page on string theory. I was going to put something real in there, but I didn't feel like digging up my physics and math notes from whatever deep dark hole they'd been put into.


	3. Schadenfreude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schadenfreude (noun): satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune.  
> [Schadenfreude](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCQGQ5qBQTA%20), because what else?  
> In the first story Loki is around 20. In the second story Thor is around 13. Warning for Thor 2 spoilers at the very end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I feel like this one is a bit silly (and this is bit more revenge than schadenfreude, blech). But I'm with bad schadenfreude, so having it in the form of retribution was a bit easier to write.  
> A note about the ages: Thor 2 totally messed up my guesses I had about Thor and Loki's ages. At first I had been going by the actor's ages, putting the brothers somewhere in the late twenties to early thirties. Although apparently Aesir live for five thousand years, and Loki is only few decades over one thousand. So if Aesir live for a human equivalent of 80-100 years, that only makes Loki the equivalent of 16-20 (which partly freaks me out because that's exactly between the ages of myself and my little brother). However, I don't think the scriptwriters realized the implication of this comment, when put in conjunction with the date of the Jotun/Aesir war in the first movie. Unless they decided the Aesir (and Jotun) have a really weird method of ageing and didn't tell us. So, because of this (and because I nearly put the brothers above that age range in previous chapters, oops), for the sake of the fic I'm going to say that by the time of _Thor_ , Loki is 23 and Thor is 25.

The doorway was open, the laughter from within raucous and exuberant. Loki didn't even have muffle his steps to hear them. He did anyway. It was best to err on side of caution, though he doubted the brutes could hear anything over the sound of their own mirth (and how else could he garner his reputation for cowering in dark corners, _sneaking_ about the palace?)

“...and it was a knife. Not even a short sword. The whelp does not have honour enough to fight with a proper weapon!”

“And he'll spend most of the fight running, rather than fighting.”

“I do not see how the Allfather and Prince Thor can stand the _shame_. For one of Odin's sons to be so weak at battle...”

Loki had not meant to hear the voices, but they were hard to ignore. At first, before they made mention of his family, Loki thought he could feign ignorance of the subject of their conversation. Perhaps he could have left without knowing if his suspicions were confirmed. Unfortunately, that option had not been left open to him.

He could still leave, though. Pretend he hadn't heard (like he sometimes had to, when propriety or the situation left him no choice), and slink away. He could go by another route to his rooms, run off like the coward thought him to be. Then he could wallow in self-pity as the words played over his head, congealing with all the others that had heard in recent weeks and the ones that stuck with him over the years, a cacophony of taunting voices that he would try and try to drown out, eventually fading on their own (for a while).

_No_. He wanted _satisfaction_.

Second option and Thor's – well, rather Asgard's – favourite: charging in and challenging the slanderers. His prowess in battle had been exactly their complaint, after all. It would be a simple matter to convince them each to a match. But even if Loki was not the weakling they proclaimed him to be, he could not be sure he could win against all those who had openly mocked him (from the sound of their laughter, there quite a few). It was too much of a risk. If he was beaten, he would only end up as more fodder for their laughter (and there would be more comparisons to his brother, because if _Thor_ had been in his place, there would have been no doubt as to the winner).

And of course, there was Thor. _He_ could help. Loki could not tell him outright, of course, but it would not difficult to trick Thor into coming through this corridor. All Loki would have to do was slip into the party in another guise, and start them talking just as Thor happened to be walking by. Then Loki would let his magic conceal him and watch from a corner of the room as Thor came in, bellowing and ready to fight any would _dare_ to impugn his brother's honour.

(Or perhaps Thor would join in the laughter, chuckle as he went by the room and add in a few of his own stories of his little brother's failures.)

If not his fists or his brother, Loki could use his tongue. He could waltz in there and start up a conversation with one group of men, and he could probably work his way through half the room before the first group realized they'd been insulted. But then...what if they didn't figure it out? What if Loki had left by the time they worked through his double meanings and snide remarks, and he couldn't see the looks on their faces? And they would come after him anyway, whether he was in the room or not. The outcome would be little different from walking in and throwing a punch.

A trick then. One that looked like an accident.

Smirking, Loki drew his magic about himself and walked into the room, unseen.

“...it brings disgrace to the whole royal family,” the warrior named Andren finished saying, and those around him nodded and murmured their assent. A few seconds later someone's arm crashed into a precariously situated platter of goblets, soaking Andren nearly from head to foot. Someone claimed it had been an accident. Someone else claimed it had been on purpose. Sides were taken, someone shoved someone else, and within minutes, the room had dissolved into chaos, a bloody brawl well under way.

Ducking an erstwhile goblet of wine from his perch on a window ledge, just out of reach of any flailing limbs, Loki hummed to himself while swinging his legs gently back and forth. When a fist knocked Andren backwards into a table holding a variety of soft fruits and cheeses, bringing the delicacies down on himself and some of his compatriots, Loki smiled.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Loki always thought he was _so_ clever with his tricks. As if Thor couldn't figure out why all his clothes a few sizes too small when he returned to his rooms that evening. Probably just small enough to fit someone Loki's size.

It wasn't as if he _needed_ to go looking for Mother or some other sorcerer in his sopping wet, muddy clothes just so he could change after the day he'd been having. He had slept in and had barely time for any breakfast before going to his lessons. Then he realized he had forgotten to write up a summary of some treaty or other from back in Grandfather Bor's time for his tutors (And it was just one measly page! He'd had the rest of the work done perfectly well!). They had berated at him, told that a prince and the future king of Asgard could not be so forgetful. Look at Loki, they'd said, younger than him and yet more responsible.

When he'd reached the sparring ring, even though it was raining and muddy he'd thought something would finally go right that day. And it had, up until the Weapons Master paired his class with a more advanced group.

Working with the older boys was usually fun, because they always presented a challenge and did their best to impart some sort of lesson while they fought. Except today, the warrior Thor had been paired with seemed like he wanted to beat Thor into the ground.

The warrior had been about two centuries older than Thor, a foot taller, and quite a bit larger. Before the match started, the warrior smiled at him. Though Loki always said Thor was about as good reading people as a smarter-than-average rock, Thor could see it was much more of a smirk. Then the match had begun, and the warrior had leapt forward, raining down blow after blow of his training sword. Thor had hurriedly raised his defence, blocking each attack, but Thor had felt his teeth rattle every time their swords locked together. The warrior had not held back _anything_.

At first, Thor had been _exhilarated_. The older warriors never went full out on the younger ones. But there Thor was, holding his own against someone much stronger and more skilled, and Thor was giving his own in return. But soon Thor's arms had grown tired, and his parries had become slower and slower.

Dodging a jab to the midsection, Thor had taken a few steps back and hurriedly glanced around at the other groups. All of them had been going at the usual pace, a few of older warriors correcting their younger partners' form. None had been moving at the brutal pace of Thor's partner. Thor hadn't had enough time to do more than absorb the information before his partner had launched himself at Thor again.

Then a few minutes later, after a particular vicious overhead blow, Thor blocked but lost his footing in the slick mud. He had gone down, landing on his backside with an ugly squelching sound as the mud dragged down his clothing. Before Thor could scramble to his feet, the warrior laid a mud-soaked boot on Thor's chest, the point of his training sword aimed at Thor's neck.

“Do you yield?” The warrior had asked with a sneer.

Thor had wanted to do no such thing, but he could not find some way to punch that smirk off the warrior's face if he was stuck on the ground. “Aye,” he had muttered, and as soon as the warrior removed his boot Thor had jumped to his feet and held his sword at the ready.

It was a good thing Thor had not taken a break after he stood, because the warrior certainly had not. He had leapt at Thor with the same energy as before. With a growl, Thor had blocked and swung, intent on showing the warrior that the son of Odin did not give up so easily.

Thor had fought viciously, even getting in a few satisfying blows against the warrior's sides, the training swords giving a resounding smack against the light padding substituting as armour. But the older warrior was just as vicious, and had a couple more centuries of training to help.

By the time the Weapons Master had dismissed the older warriors, Thor's knuckles were bruised from the warrior attempting to knock the sword from out of his hand, and his clothes were drenched in mud from being knocked down another time.

So if Thor's clothes weren't fixed soon, he was going to _kill_ Loki.

He was halfway to his mother's rooms when he heard the angry shouts over the soft patter of rain, off in some courtyard. Thor would have passed it by (shouting was a norm for the palace), but the voice he heard replying to the shouts sounded suspiciously like Loki.

Taking a sharp left into the courtyard, he hurried down the path in the direction of the voices, the yelling becoming much clearer.

“- and don't you _ever_ try your little tricks on me again!” Thor heard, and if it really was his brother the man was shouting at, Thor could sympathize. He wondered what prank Loki had concocted to enrage this poor, hapless man to such an extent. Hopefully it wasn't permanent.

Coming up to a bend in the path, Thor distinctly heard Loki say, “Do not make it so easy for me, then,” which even Thor knew was the wrong thing to say. There was a wordless growl, and Thor turned a corner just in time to see a large boy, whose back was towards Thor, grab a handful of Loki's collar and throw his brother to the ground.

For one quick second, Thor felt a jolt of vicious satisfaction as his brother fell. It was not quite payback for his ruined clothes, but it came close. And Thor didn't even have to lift a finger to enjoy a little bit of revenge.

Then Loki hit the ground. Pain flashed across his face, before being replaced by fear as the larger boy bent down, one hand raised as if to hit Loki.

Thor didn't even think. He was running down the path, thoughts of revenge forgotten, and barrelled into the larger boy before the fist could come down. The two of them went sprawling into the wet grass, though luckily Thor was quicker getting to his feet. He darted in front of where Loki sat, looking stunned.

“Don't you touch my brother,” Thor growled, hands raised, anger vanquishing his haze of exhaustion. The larger boy jumped to his feet, and Thor nearly gasped when he recognized him. It was the warrior he had sparred earlier. The warrior must have recognized this too, for his face split into a smirk.

“Why, do you want a repeat of earlier?” the warrior mocked, and took a step closer. “What makes you think you can fight me and protect him too?” He jerked his head towards Loki.

Thor gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, ready to launch himself forward and into another battle that he would lose. Then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, as Loki stood and made a strange gesture. At first he wanted to yell at Loki to run before he could get hurt, then he noticed a small puddle directly in front of the warrior glazing over into ice. The warrior did not seem to paying attention to the puddle, for he grinned, took one step forward, and slipped backwards into a muddy flower bed.

The echoing smack as the warrior his ground was rather gratifying. Thor didn't waste any revelling though. He stepped over the magicked ice patch and put his foot on the warrior's chest before he could recover. “Do you yield?” Thor asked.

The warrior snarled in reply and tried to get up, but Thor pressed down harder. “I said, do you yield?” he growled, digging his heel into the centre's of the warrior's ribcage. The warrior glared, then finally nodded. Thor had to bite back a grin at the warrior's humiliation.

The warrior made a move to get up again, but Thor wasn't finished. He pushed his foot down again, maybe a bit harder than was necessary. “And you swear to compose yourself honourable against opponents younger and smaller than you, both in the sparring ring and outside it?” Thor snuck a quick glance back at his brother, who was standing off the side, staring at the two of them. The warrior followed his glance then looked back Thor.

“Aye, if those opponents can act with honour themselves,” the warrior spat.

Thor hesitated, then realized he probably wouldn't get much of a better deal. He lifted his foot. “Then you are free to go,” he said, in the most princely voice he could muster.

The warrior scrambled to his feet, gave them both one last glared, then stomped off, muddy trousers glistening in the rain.

Thor waited until the boy disappeared around a corner before letting out a deep breath and turning to Loki. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” he asked, taking in Loki's drenched clothes and wide eyes. Then he felt a hot flash of guilt course through him, because he had _wanted_ Loki to be hurt, and had _enjoyed_ it. He tried to keep the shame off his face. He didn't want Loki to guess what he had felt.

Luckily, Loki chose that moment to shake his head. “No, I am fine,” he answered, then swallowed and looked up at Thor, eyes wide. “Though I may not have been for much longer, without you.”

Thor grinned and wrapped a hand around his brother's shoulder, pushing down the guilt the best he could. “Then it's good thing I was passing by. You get into too much trouble for your good.” Steering his brother back indoors, he realized he didn't actually know what the cause of that trouble was. “What did you do to him anyway?” he asked, not quite sure if he cared if the trick was a bit horrible.

Loki fiddled with the edge of his sleeve. “Well, he was talking to some of his friends, and couple of maidens, and I _might_ have cast an illusion of a spider on his hand, which _may_ have caused him shriek and flail about like a madman.” Thor let out a strange noise as he choked on a bark of laughter, and Loki glanced up at him, an odd mix of pride and apprehension on his face. “Then I might have caused his belt to loosen just enough for his trouser to fall around his ankles. In front of the ladies.”

Thor burst out laughing. He could just imagine the warrior's face, and the expressions of the poor ladies subjected to the sight, and he laughed harder. “Truly?” he gasped out between breaths. “Was there any reason for your spite, or was he simply in the way?”

For a moment Loki seemed nervous, and stared down at his muddied boots. “I saw him...fighting you. Earlier.” Abruptly Thor's laughter died out, and he stared down at his brother, a flurry of emotions turning his stomach. On one hand, he was angry at Loki for seeing him when he was battered around, like he was weak or helpless. But that Loki had risked injury for _him_...Thor realized Loki was looking at him, gauging his reaction. Before Thor could think to answer, Loki started babbling, “I know, you do not _need_ help, you could take care of him yourself, but he was hurting you, and I could not let him–”

“Loki,” Thor said, and Loki closed his mouth with a snap. Turning to Loki, Thor put one hand on his brother's shoulder and the other cupped his neck. “It is fine. I am grateful, and my only regret is that I could not witness the trick myself.” Thor grinned, and Loki smiled back. Then Thor sobered. “But I do not want you to get hurt on my behalf. Alright?”

Loki nodded. “Alright.”

“Good.” Thor brightened again. Entering back within the warm palace walls, Thor said, “Now, what say you fix my clothes that you bewitched, and then play the same trick back upon him?”

When Thor saw the warrior stomping to the launder room the next day in clothes several sizes too small, Thor couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

 

( _Loki was not supposed to get himself hurt because of him. He had told Loki he could take care of himself. And he could take care of the Kursed one on his own. Loki should not have interfered. Loki should not have tried to kill the monster on his own._

_Loki should not have died._

_Because Thor should have protected him._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that in the first story, Loki's fears that Thor would join in laughing at him would not happen, and Loki is accidentally exaggerating the amount of people mocking him because he's insecure and overly suspicious. Also, I feel like I have to explain why the warrior in the second story was beating on Thor: everyone keeps hearing about how Thor's a great fighter already, even though he's so young, and the warrior felt jealous and resentful because he's also a great fighter, better than Thor at this time, so why does Thor get so much attention? So he decides to show Thor what a real warrior knows, to sort of put him in his place. Or something. Anyway, I feel like I'm drawing way too much on my Tae Kwon Do experience for the way Asgard teaches its warriors, but I'm too lazy to research viking culture so this is what you get.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series that can be updated until I either run out of synonyms for happiness (though not all will be strict synonyms), or ideas for stories. Some stories may have a song or two that I think goes along with the mood, while with others I won't be able to find one. And be warned, these stories will not always happy.


End file.
